


auld lang syne

by KyloTrashForever



Series: Oneshots [41]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben thinks Rey is hate-sexting him, F/M, Gingerpilot, If You Squint - Freeform, Misunderstandings, New Years, New Years punnery mid boning, POV Alternating, Pining, Poe Dameron is a canonical little shit, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Roommates, Secret Crush, Sexting, Sort Of, ben is easy to boner, but I love him, but then actual sexing, idiots to lovers, rey is decidedly not doing that, rey/Armitage Hux friendship, the old "those aren't my tits/THESE are my tits" move, the old I showed you mine now show me yours, yes I know the title is lazy what of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22075957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: “Ben. I didn’t send you that.”He looks… still mad, really, but there’s something else there too. Embarrassment, and something like hurt? She really can’t make sense of it.“I’m not stupid, Rey.”“Obviously, you are.”“There’s no one else who—” He grinds his teeth. “No one else who would send this to me.”“I hate to break it to you,” she huffs out, irritated and tired and just plain over it. “But those aren’t my tits.”In which Ben isn't very bright.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Oneshots [41]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1321118
Comments: 196
Kudos: 1775





	auld lang syne

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO I MEANT TO UPLOAD THIS LAST NIGHT but what should have been around 3000 words morphed into this silly monstrosity. Based on my IRL friend accusing me of sending her dick pics and raunchy texts as a prank and then NOT BELIEVING ME WHEN  
> I TOLD HER IT WASN'T ME GUYS WOULD I REALLY DO THAT I MEAN THE AUDACITY.  
> But I digress.  
> Here is that silly scenario gender swapped and smacked with some New Year's firework fucking.  
> If this is more ridiculous than usual just know I wrote the bulk of it well past my bedtime with VERY HEAVY EYES. 🥱  
> Happy 2020 Reylos! It's gotta get better from here. ❤️  
> 

“Ben, for the last time, it’s _not_ me.”

Ben doesn’t heed her assertion, just as he hasn’t for the last week. “It’s not funny anymore, Rey.”

“Even less so for me,” she huffs, tossing more of her laundry into the basket without looking at him. “Since you have spent the last five days accusing me of something I have nothing to do with.”

“I know it’s you that keeps fucking with me.”

“Don’t you think I have better things to do than _fuck_ with you?”

She does turn then, finding him looming in the doorway of her bedroom, jaw tight and brow furrowed and looking more uptight than he usually does. She watches his mouth part slightly, his expression going a bit blank for a handful of seconds as if he’s trying to process what she’s said, his lips finally pressing together as he shakes his head. 

“It _has_ to be you,” Ben grumbles.

“Why would I be spending my free time sending you texts about—what did you say they were sending you again?”

Ben narrows his eyes. “As if you don’t know.”

“I _don’t_.” 

She doesn’t. Not really. He mentioned that some of them were pretty raunchy, but she can’t fathom in the slightest why he would deduce that it’s _her_ prank-texting him. It isn’t if they have that sort of rapport. It isn’t as if they have _anything_ really. She’s known Ben Solo for six months now, and he’s spent the greater part of that time pretending she doesn’t exist—even though they sleep across the hall from each other.

Talk about an awkward living arrangement.

Ben’s big body vibrates like he’s a charged particle who at any moment will start emitting his own magnetic field, and she finds herself curious as to exactly what sort of texts someone has been tormenting him with.

“Just cut it out,” he mutters. 

Ben makes a disgusted sound, storming out of her room and slamming her door behind him with a loud sound. Rey stares at the closed wood for several seconds, mentally scratching at her head and wondering how she can make it any clearer that she _doesn’t_ have any particular interest in making his life hell. 

Even if he is a bit of a moody asshole. 

* * *

“So Ben went on another tirade when you left for class,” Hux offers, taking a sip of his _venti matcha green tea Frappuccino with soy milk, chips, and peppermint_ that she’s pretty sure makes the baristas wish for their death every time they step into the Starbucks. “He was pretty… disgruntled.”

Rey scoffs, sipping at her perfectly reasonable iced mocha. “When is Ben _not_ disgruntled? You lived with the guy for months before I came along. Why didn’t you warn me before you let me take the extra bedroom?”

“He wasn’t really like that before?” Hux shrugs. “He and Poe have been roommates since they were sophomores. He didn’t seem like an asshole when I met him. He was mostly just quiet, until—”

Rey rolls her eyes. “So it’s just me then.”

“I guess,” Hux laughs.

“He thinks I’ve been sending him prank texts, apparently.”

Hux cocks an eyebrow. “What kind?”

“I’m not sure? The only time I’ve actually gotten him to talk about the actual _contents_ of said texts between all his yelling, all he could tell me is that some of them are _pretty raunchy.”_

“He thinks you’re hate-sexting him?”

Rey throws up a hand in bewilderment. “I don’t know! Surely it has to be weirder than just that. Can’t see why he would be so riled up about someone trying to sext him.” Rey snorts. “Unless he just hates me so much that the very _idea_ repulses him.”

Hux makes a face, averting his eyes. “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you.”

“Right,” Rey scoffs. “Sure. It’s just _roommates in paradise_ over here.”

“Well,” Hux shrugs. “ _Poe_ and I are having a swell time.”

“That’s because you’re getting regular sex.”

“Well maybe you should try getting regular sex. Might ease some of your stress.”

She rolls her eyes. “Right. Point me in the direction of an eligible fuck buddy amidst my class schedule and two jobs.”

“There’s one across the hall that seems to have some of his own stress to work through.”

She wrinkles her nose. “What?”

“Just saying.”

“As if _that’s_ ever going to happen.”

“You have to admit he’s… got potential.”

Rey scoffs under her breath. “Just because I think the idea of fucking that giant grump would be _enjoyable_ doesn’t mean it’s a good idea, or that it would ever happen. He _hates_ me.”

“You keep saying that,” Hux laughs. “Don’t hear you saying that you hate _him.”_

Rey frowns. “I mean… I don’t? He’s mostly just annoying."

“Bet he’d be less annoying if you put that big body to better use.”

“Right. I’ll just go knock on Ben’s door like, hey, I know you can’t even stand to be in the same room as me, but why don’t we just try fucking it out?”

He gives another shrug. “Seems like a fine idea to me.”

“You _would_ say that.”

He grins slyly. “How do you think Poe won me over?”

Rey is still shaking her head at the thought of it even as Hux reaches into his pocket for his cellphone, fishing it out and becoming distracted by a call from his boyfriend. It really isn’t fair that her oldest friend is experiencing domestic bliss and regular orgasms just down the hall from her while the closest thing she’s had to a sexual experience is that one time she caught Ben coming out of the shower in only a towel.

Not that it was a bad image.

Then again, Ben’s looks have never been the problem. With his rideable shoulders and his kissable mouth and his tuggable hair—she’s only _slightly_ ashamed to say that he’s had her turning her head in his direction without even realizing she’s doing it on more than one occasion. 

But for whatever reason, he’d decided he didn’t like her the first damn week she moved in—resorting to holing up in his room when she’s around and only speaking to her when he _absolutely_ has to. 

Like she said, _roommates in paradise._

She notices Hux is tucking his phone away again, taking another long sip from his drink as he regards her. “Poe wants to know if you’re coming tonight.”

She makes a face. “To a frat party?”

“It’s New Year’s Eve!”

She keeps her mouth turned down, and Hux rolls his eyes.

“What are you going to do,” he goes on. “Spend it alone?”

“I get a _very_ good view of the campus fireworks display from my window.”

“I will never understand why you got the room with the giant window.”

“Because yours had an attached bath, and Poe wanted a private space to primp.”

“Okay, but have you seen his hair? It’s sort of magical.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She grimaces suddenly. “Maybe Ben won’t be home.”

Hux gives it some thought. “Shouldn’t be. I think his parents always throw some fancy soiree with all their friends. You know his family is loaded, right?”

She sighs wearily. “Of course they are.”

“Maybe you should just stop sending the poor boy all those raunchy texts.”

“Right,” she laughs sardonically. “I’ll get right on that.”

She would say that she might hope to somehow find a way to make peace with her antagonistic hulk of a roommate—but Rey thinks that is a fairly lofty goal, given his open animosity towards her. No, better to reach for a more attainable goal.

At this point, she can only hope that the new year will prove to be slightly less headache-inducing than the last.

Hopefully.

* * *

She’s barely inside her bedroom, dropping her backpack on her bed and stepping out of her shoes, when he bursts inside. The first thing she wonders is why he’s even _here,_ but it’s quickly lost to the angry expression on his face as he practically hisses:

“Okay, but this is too far.”

She tries for something less antagonistic. “What are you even doing home? Hux said your family throws some fancy thing on New Year’s Eve.”

“What?” He looks thrown for a moment. “I… No. I mean, they _do,_ but I just didn’t feel like going this year.” He shakes his head, drawing on his anger again. “But that’s not the point.”

Rey sighs wearily. “What have I done now?”

Honestly, she’s exhausted. It’s just after eleven, she’s just worked a double at the diner _after_ attending her morning class—there is nothing she would like more than to crawl into her bed, block out the impending fireworks, and _not_ have this conversation.

“If you think this is funny—if you think that acting like this—just because somehow you _know—”_

She turns around, cocking her hands on her hips and narrowing her eyes. “What do I _know?”_

“I—” His face flushes a little, and he averts his eyes. “You know.”

“No, I fucking _don’t.”_

He grips his phone tight in his hand, holding it out as if somehow this clarifies everything. “With the shit I’ve been getting, there is no way it’s anyone _but_ you.”

“Ben, this is _ridiculous.”_

“I know you don’t like me,” he huffs. “But I never thought you were _cruel.”_

She doesn’t know what throws her more: the accusation of being cruel or the implication that their entire strained relationship is somehow a product of _her_ not liking _him—_ not the other way around.

He’s still ranting, grumbling about _inappropriate_ and _unnecessary—_ and Rey has just about had enough. She lunges suddenly, watching as Ben’s eyes go wide with shock as she closes the distance between them in a flash, swiping the phone away and thanking her lucky stars that not only is it _unlocked_ , but also open to the text thread in question.

She hears him make a sound of protest, and this strikes her as odd, seeing as he’s dead set on the idea that it is _her_ sending them—but the first thing she’s met with is definitely… not just a text.

There’s a photo staring back at her of a woman’s naked chest, someone a little slimmer than she is, breasts just a tad larger, and what’s with that weird nipple? She finds herself completely confused as to why he would think she would _actually_ send him this. She does a quick flick through the recent messages as she steps away from him, curling in on herself as he crowds her in an attempt to grapple the phone away, finding herself even _more_ confused because:

**I know you want to fuck me**

**It’s so obvious**

**Why don’t you just say something**

**I bet you could fuck me real good**

**I know you’re over there in your room jerking off to me all the time**

And just before the photo:

**Don’t you wanna see me? Don’t be such a coward**

Ben wrestles the phone away, but mostly because her grip is slack now, her mouth parted a little in confusion as she tries to connect these texts to Ben’s vehement assertion that it’s _her_ sending them. She turns slowly, her head turned slightly in bewilderment as Ben stares back at her with pursed mouth, chest heaving and eyes hard.

“I’m just asking you to stop,” he says quietly. “Just stop.”

“You…” Her thoughts are a little disjointed, trying to connect _fuck me real good_ with _any_ semblance of words she would _actually_ say. “Ben. I didn’t send you that.”

He looks… still mad, really, but there’s something else there too. Embarrassment, and something like hurt? She really can’t make sense of it. 

“I’m not stupid, Rey.”

“Obviously, you are.”

“There’s no one else who—” He grinds his teeth. “No one else who would send this to me.”

“I hate to break it to you,” she huffs out, irritated and tired and just plain over it. “But those aren’t my tits.”

Wow, he might be full-on blushing now. Is this not how he expected this to go? She knows the feeling. “Just… you’ve had your fun. Just stop.”

“Those are”—she’s getting angry now—“ _not_ my fucking tits.”

He’s not even listening. She can see it on his face. He’s absolutely _sure_ it’s her. “Listen, I’m just asking you to—”

She really _is_ just plain over it.

His words taper off as he watches her reach for the hem of her shirt with wide eyes, and she thinks he makes some sound—one that is either a protest or a whimper—but she’s already tugging it up her torso, grateful that she wore her thicker sweater that allows for her to go braless. Happy to know this moment can be done and over with quickly.

She thinks his constant tormenting of her for the last week will be worth the way she stuns him to silence, and her tired mind _feels_ the gratification that this will bring, finally shutting him up, but when she pulls the sweater over her head to hold it in her hand, resting her fists on her hips in a defiant gesture—the expression on Ben’s face is anything but contrite.

Worse (it _is_ worse, right?), he looks _hungry._

His mouth is parted and his eyes are so _dark_ now—and the moment she’d been hoping for sort of dissipates, because it’s hard, incredibly hard to feel smug when he’s looking at her like that.

“S-see?” Her voice sounds all wrong, and her skin pebbles with goosebumps, her nipples getting harder with something that has nothing to do with the turning fan over her head. “It’s not me.”

“I—” He swallows, his eyes raking over her entire chest for a good four seconds before he seems to remember himself, tearing his eyes away and staring down at the floor. “Okay.”

She’s shrugging back into her sweater, and for the life of her she can’t determine why this moment seems less satisfying than she thought it would be. She’d meant to fluster him, yes, get a little revenge and prove her innocence all at once—but this tension, this _heat_ wasn’t anything she could have anticipated.

Does Ben _like_ looking at her?

What’s more, does she like _him_ looking at _her?_

She clears her throat, trying to regain a thread of control over this situation. “So you’ll stop hounding me then?”

Ben nods at the floor, refusing to look at her. “Yes.”

“Good.”

There’s a silence now, one that is thick with its own seemingly tangible weight, and Rey crosses her arms across her chest as she questions everything about the rash decision she's made. Why is he so quiet? It’s not a big deal. It’s not as if they talk. 

“I guess I’ll… go.”

Rey nods. “Yeah.”

“Goodnight—” His eyes finally dart up to meet hers, his jaw tense. “—Rey.”

“Goodnight.”

She watches him go, watches him close the door behind him, leaving her still slightly stunned by everything that just happened in this room. It keeps her in a bit of a dazed state throughout the entire process of preparing for bed, and even a little later, tucked away under her covers and staring up at the ceiling in the dark—she can’t quite make sense of it. 

She can’t seem to get that _look_ he’d given her out of her head.

The texts she’d caught a glimpse of creep back into her thoughts, the words drifting through her mind like pieces of a puzzle that aren’t _quite_ the whole picture. 

_I know you want to fuck me_

_I know you’re over there in your room jerking off to me all the time_

Why had he thought she would send him something like that? Why would he think it was _cruel_ of her to do so? Why would he—

Rey sits up in bed. 

_I know you want to fuck me_

_I know you want to fuck me_

_I know you want to fuck me_

It plays over and over in her head like a loop, the pieces falling together to paint a _very_ clear picture now. Because Ben Solo thought she was texting him these things to taunt him, to _torment_ him—and that can only mean one thing.

That they’re _true_.

* * *

Ben leans against his door, heart pounding in his rib cage and cock so hard it’s painful. 

For an entire week he has been plagued with the lewd and taunting texts—ones he’d been _so sure_ were the product of Rey finding out about how he feels about her—lying awake at night and _imagining_ the ways she might have found out. Trying to make sense of why she would _torment_ him with it. 

Who else would know? He’s been very careful not to make it obvious, careful to keep his distance, knowing that he can’t be around her without making an absolute fool of himself—so who else could it have been? 

Rey had been the only logical answer, with how easily she could find an app to use a fake number—or so he thought.

But that… hadn’t been Rey in the photo.

And if he thought he’d been hard when he thought it _was_ Rey in the photo—

It is nothing to what he is now.

He lets his head rest against the door, closing his eyes as he attempts to sear the image of her naked from the waist up on his brain. She’s all freckled skin and soft curves and pink little nipples that jut out as if _begging_ for his mouth. She’s _perfect._

He isn’t even sure he cares who sent the texts anymore.

He isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to think straight again, not with _that_ lingering in his memory. 

Ben has… never been good with women. He’s had them (more than once, thank you, although not _that_ much more)—but never won by inherent charm or even a half-tolerable personality. He knows what he is: surly, too big, mostly unsociable; Poe is the only human on Earth that actually seems to _enjoy_ his company, but he thinks this is because Poe thinks Ben is _funny_ in a way one might find an animal at the zoo _funny._

Ben tries not to think too hard on it.

But _Rey._

She’d stepped into this apartment all warm smile and tight jeans and tinkling laugh and Ben had just… been _gone_ nearly from day one.

Which means he’d done what he has always done.

Withdraw.

Avoid.

Ruin.

Everything he’s good for.

Every time he _had_ tried to talk to her, to get to know her—it had ended in disaster, mostly the product of Ben having no idea how to hold any semblance of casual conversation. So it had been a shock when he suddenly began to receive these telling texts, ones that suggested Rey _knew,_ and what’s worse—that she found it in her to _taunt_ him for it.

Ben has never felt as horrible as he had this last week. So _angry._

But… he’d been wrong.

So _wrong._

Now he doesn’t know what the fuck he will do, how he will ever _look_ at her again, with what is in his brain.

 _Fuck_ . He palms the front of his pajama bottoms, relieving some of the ache in his cock that begs for his attention. He grips himself to stroke idly, imagining the soft swell of her breasts that had begun to heave a little under his stare—and he grits his teeth for how much _harder_ it makes him. 

_He’s never going to be able to talk to her again._

He fists the head of his cock through his pants, hissing out a breath.

_He didn’t talk to her that much to begin with._

He strokes down to the base, gripping there as he imagines what she might feel like under his hands.

_He’s going to have to move out._

He imagines one pink little nipple against his tongue.

_It might be worth it._

He’s fairly close, thinking he can get himself off just like this, just to the images in his _head—_ and he tugs down his pants and underwear to take himself in hand. His mouth parts as he works himself quickly, and he’s so _close._ He’s _right there._ He’s—

He nearly jumps out of his skin when his phone begins to vibrate against his thigh in his pocket that hangs loosely around them—going still as it jars him back to his senses a bit. His breath is labored, and his heart is pounding so hard he can feel it in his ears, and another buzz against his thigh only takes him further from his impending orgasm.

He curses under his breath as he attempts to fish it out with one hand, having every intention of tossing it over to his bed but _just_ catching the name across his screen.

_Rey._

He swallows around the dryness in his throat, the hand gripping his phone shaking as the other still fists his cock tight. He manages to swipe across the screen to unlock it, eyes going wide at what he finds.

**Why did you think it was me, Ben.**

**You said I was tormenting you. When you thought it was me. Why?**

He doesn’t know how to answer that. Not without telling her the truth. Something he doesn’t think he can do. He tells himself to ignore it, to just ride out the night and pray it goes away—but he’s already releasing his cock, thumbs tapping away in an attempt to salvage it.

_I just thought you were trying to rile me up_

**And that riles you up? The idea that I would think you jerk off thinking about me?**

Fuck. The sides of this hole he’s digging seem to be caving in all around him. 

_Wouldn’t it embarrass you if someone came to that conclusion about you?_

**We aren’t talking about just someone. You thought it was ME. You were riled because you thought it was ME that thought you were over there touching yourself thinking about me.**

_You’re reading too much into this._

It’s weak. He knows that. He’s losing ground here.

**Ben.**

He doesn’t reply just yet, scrambling for something, _anything_ to say—but the dots are moving again before he has the chance.

**Are you touching yourself right now?**

The little whimper that escapes him is involuntary. His breath leaves him in a long, ragged draw, his hips jerking forward in a movement beyond his control. Surely she doesn’t want to know that. Surely she isn’t _serious._ She can’t be—

**Because if you are, I think you should show me.**

Ben isn’t breathing. Mind blank, heart pounding—he’s so _hard._

**It’s only fair. Since you saw me.**

Ben mentally calculates the odds of this being a trap. She’s given him no reason to believe she would actually ask for this. He checks the number, making sure it’s not some horrible mistake—but it’s her. It’s _Rey._ Rey asking to _see him._

Ben has never been one to call himself brave, not in this regard, but Rey is across his hall, probably lying in her bed, and her pretty little body is still burned into his brain, and he’s still so _hard—_

Ben thinks he was likely going to have to move out anyway, barring this.

He snaps a photo before he can change his mind.

It’s off now, off into the interweb and out of his control. There’s a brief moment of panic because _oh fuck oh no what has he fucking done—_ but it’s sent now. It’s out there. There’s no taking it back. Every second that passes is brutal, thinking that any second now she will tell him it was all a joke, that she’ll laugh, or _worse_ that she will—

_Knock knock._

He feels the vibration of the wood against his back, pulling away from it like it burns him. There’s no one else home. It’s just them now. It’s _Rey_ on the other side of that door, and he’s just sent her—

His hands are shaking still, when he reaches for the doorknob—but then she’s there. Looking up at him in the darkened hall, eyes wide and flicking down to the haphazard tent in his pajama bottoms that he’d _just_ managed to yank up over his cock to cover it.

He watches her tongue dart out to wet her lower lip, and his cock twitches in response. “You don’t hate me. Do you.”

Ben shakes his head as if in a trance. “Not at all.”

“God, you’re dumb.”

Ben’s opening his mouth to tell her she’s right. That she’s _so_ right—but her fingers curl into his shirt, and she’s tugging, pressing up on her toes, and then she’s just _there._ Warm mouth against his. Tiny body molded to his front. Fucking _transcendant._

She tugs him backwards, both of them stumbling into her room, all the while her lips moving over his, her tongue tracing the seam of his mouth before dipping inside. His hand settles at her lower back to bring her closer, and his cock presses against the softness of her belly as his eyes flutter and his mind clouds. 

“You acted”—she’s fisting his shirt, one leg curling around his thigh and bringing his cock closer to her center—“like you hated me.”

“I didn’t,” he denies breathlessly, chasing after her mouth. “I _didn’t._ I just—” He gasps a little when her hips roll into him. “Didn’t think you'd ever—it was so _hard—”_

He hisses when her hand covers the stiff length of him through the fabric of his pajama bottoms. “I’ll say,” she mutters. She pulls away, fingers tangling in his hair as she frowns. “You know, I probably would have fucked you that first week.”

His mouth gapes open. “Really?”

“So dumb,” she mutters just before she presses back on her toes to capture his mouth. 

He’s kneading the softness of her ass through the tiny shorts she’s wearing, bringing her closer, touching _more_ of her—and he’s greedy for it now. Needing all of it. Still half wondering if this is a _dream._

She spins him, pushing him back onto her bed as he falls against the mattress with an _oomph_ —staring up at her in a daze as she reaches for the hem of her shirt for the _second_ time that night. He’s not filled with dull panic now, but anticipation (and okay, maybe just a _tiny_ bit of panic), watching every movement as her shirt inches up and over her head to be tossed away. For a moment he can just gape at her, fingers itching to reach out and touch but still feeling as if it’s out of his reach. 

But then her hands rest on his knees, Rey leaning into him to kiss him a little softer now. 

“You can touch me,” she whispers. “You can.”

His hands are tentative as they collide with the soft swell of her hips. He holds his breath as he drifts them higher, taking in the dip of her waist, the curve of her ribs—letting his thumbs stroke boldly just beneath her breasts. She sucks in a breath as he traces the shape there, and his eyes dart up to search for permission as he leans in with intention. Rey nods, and it’s all Ben needs as he pulls her close, closing his eyes to wrap his lips around one taut nipple. Her fingers tangle in his hair as he sucks the tight little bud into his mouth, body tensing and cock straining because she’s so warm and soft and _perfect._

She tugs at his hair, arching further into his mouth. “Did you, Ben?” She makes some needy sound when his tongue swirls around her. “Did you touch yourself over in your room? Did you think of me?” 

He tries to nod, but it interrupts the efforts of his mouth.

“You should have said something,” she says through gritted teeth. “How are you going to make it up to me?”

He releases her with a soft _pop_ , his eyes glazing over. “Make it up to you?”

Her lips curl, her fingers doing something similar at the edge of his shirt as she inches it upwards. “You sort of robbed me of six month’s worth of orgasms,” she laughs, freeing him of his shirt as his arms come through the sleeves before she can add it to hers on the floor. “That’s a long time, Ben.”

“Yeah,” he answers airily, distracted by her hands that are currently smoothing over his chest. “Long.”

“Very long,” she murmurs, reaching to stroke him through the thin cotton of his pants. “You don’t think I haven’t thought about you, too? Here in my room?”

His eyes flutter closed. “Have you?”

“Mhm.” Her fingers trace at the edge of his pants, dipping beneath them. “What if I told you I’ve touched myself. Wondering what your cock looked like.”

He bites at his lower lip, tilting his hips into her hand as she inches his pants down his thighs, underwear in tow. “Fuck, Rey. The things I’ve _thought_ about.”

“I wouldn’t know,” she tells him, leaning in to let her lips brush along his throat. “You were so _dumb.”_

“Yeah,” he laughs shakily. “Dumb.”

His cock is free now, and he’s kicking everything away as he hastily reaches to bring her to the same state—working frantically as if this will all end at any moment. He keeps going until she’s draped naked over his thighs, hands braced against his chest as he pulls her closer, feeling the slick heat of her cunt— _wet, so wet—_ pressed against his cock as he lets one hand cup at the nape of her neck to pull her in for another kiss. 

She undulates against him, her hips shifting needily as he lets his other hand grip her hip, pulling her into him until a deep groan escapes from deep inside his chest. “Is this—” He’s trying to formulate coherent thought, but it’s difficult now. “Is this _actually_ happening?”

“If you want it to,” she murmurs, licking at his lower lip. “Do you?”

“Yes,” he hisses. “ _Yes._ I do. _Fuck._ I do.”

“Now see,” she laughs softly. “That wasn’t so hard.”

And it wasn’t, he thinks. It really wasn’t. Tomorrow he will mourn how much time he’s wasted, but tonight he is too distracted by _her._

“Condom,” he murmurs. “Need a—”

She shakes her head so that her lips brush back and forth against his. “Birth control.”

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” he groans.

He rolls her suddenly, lifting her in one swift motion until she’s sprawled across her bed, hair fanning out behind her as the moonlight from the wide window of her balcony spills over her, washing her in a silver glow that makes his entire chest hurt.

“God, Rey, you’re just so—”

She’s grinning, pulling him down to her before he can tell just what she _is—_ beautiful, incredible, _perfect—_ and he can feel the warm wet of her against his cock. Can feel the softness of her tiny form molded beneath his. Hear the little sounds she makes as she squirms underneath. 

He reaches between them, fingers parting her to find her soaked and supple and _ready—_ but still he eases one inside to feel the slick heat of her. She gasps softly when he slides it deeper, the sound morphing into a moan when he draws out only to add a second, pushing as deep as he can go as her back arches into him. 

“ _Ben.”_

He works his fingers in and out of her, feeling his cock leaking against her thigh as she soaks his fingers in her arousal, ducking to mouth at her throat as he works her open for him. As he makes her _ready._ His thumb rolls over the little bud of her clit, rubbing a heavy circle there are she whimpers against him. When he pulls his hand away only to press the head of his cock there instead, he stills to prop up on his hands, looking down at her to ensure this is actually happening, that she actually _wants_ this. 

And Rey… Rey fucking _smiles._ Reaching up to him, inviting him in.

Ben has never felt more _dumb_ in his entire life.

He kisses her deep and slow as he eases inside, body tensing and mouth slack against hers because she is _so warm_ and _so tight_ and Ben can hardly _stand_ it. He thrusts shallowly into her, closing his eyes as he allows the head of his cock to dip just inside only to pull out before repeating it all again. 

“ _Ben,”_ she hisses again. 

He can’t really formulate a coherent response, so he resorts to kissing below her jaw as he slides inside. He can feel every wet inch of her wrapped around him like a glove, her body opening up to take every inch as he pushes further, glides _deeper—_ giving her everything until his pelvis brushes against hers and her legs wrap around his waist to hold him close. His mouth gapes open against her skin, eyes glazed because she feels better than anything— _anything_ he’s ever felt.

“Oh, God. You’re— _fuck—_ you’re—”

Her lips brush against his jaw, her arms winding around his neck. “You can move,” she rasps. “ _Move,_ Ben.”

His hand slides down the length of her, settling at her thigh to grip and widen the space between her legs. His first thrust is slow—a drawn out slide so that he can memorize every wet inch of her suctioning against him—and he closes his eyes to press back inside just as slow, reveling in it.

“ _Fuck._ We could have—all this time we could have— _fuck,_ I feel so—”

He can _feel_ her smile against his mouth. “Dumb?”

“ _So dumb,”_ he groans, rolling into her a little more roughly as she gasps with it. Her ankles hook behind him, pulling him _closer_ —his cock sliding deep as he fills her to the hilt. “Is this—” He kisses her a little sloppily, having a hard time keeping his senses with the way she’s _clenching_ around him now. “I don’t want to—” Her heels dig into his ass, and he groans. “I don’t want this to be a one time thing.”

“Are you going to go back to avoiding me?”

“No, _no—_ I never even meant—it’s just that you’re—and I’m—”

“Ben.” She kisses softly at the corner of his mouth, tilting up her hips. “Are you?”

“No.” He shakes his head, closing his eyes. “No.”

“That’s a good start.”

He pulls out with every intention of slamming back inside, propping up on one hand above her to drink in her tiny form nestled beneath him—but a flash of bright color outside the window jars him, drawing his attention. Rey tilts her head back to look, smiling softly as the _pop_ continues to sound and the colors continue to flash across the sky. Her fingers curl over his shoulders, her gaze finding his with a little smile at her mouth. 

“You know what they say, right?”

Ben shakes his head, grinding his teeth with the way he could sort of come right now. “No.”

“Whatever you’re doing on New Years… you’ll be doing for the rest of the year.”

Ben’s smile is slow, creeping across his face until it actually _hurts_ , and then he’s ducking to kiss her, to pull her closer. 

“Happy fucking New Year,” Rey murmurs.

Ben is still smiling when he starts to move in earnest, when his fingers find the swollen bud of her clit, when her body shakes beneath him and against him, when he tumbles after her, cock twitching and heart racing, fireworks exploding in the sky outside—Ben thinks to himself that there is nothing he would rather be doing for the next year. For the next _hundred_ really. 

And when she’s still after, when she’s curled into his side, in _her_ bed—his fingers tracing her skin and her breath growing even—Ben thinks again just how _dumb_ he’s been. He thinks his New Year’s resolution will definitely be something along the lines of rectifying that. 

“Happy New Year,” he murmurs into her hair, her answering mumble unintelligible. 

Somehow Ben thinks it really will be.

* * *

Rey wakes to a heavy warmth, her eyes creaking open to Ben’s big body draped over her like a weighted blanket. His face is relaxed in sleep, his hair puffing lightly against his mouth with every soft sigh of sleep. She smiles quietly to herself as she recalls the night before, thinking that her bold move really paid off. 

They’ll have a lot to talk about, she thinks, when he wakes up—but all in all, not a bad way to ring in the new year. 

It takes effort to untangle herself from his sleeping form, effort and resolve because a naked Ben in the morning light is a _temptation—_ but she’s going to need coffee, if she’s going to reconcile all the weirder bits of their prior relationship with the one they currently seem to be heading into—so she stamps down the urge to wake him up and have another go, shrugging into her robe instead and quietly leaving her room in search of the kitchen.

She finds Hux there already, looking more than hungover, eyes barely open as he sips at a cup slowly. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” she replies cheerily.

“What are you so chipper for?”

“Me?” She pretends to give it some thought. “No reason.” She moves to the pot, pouring herself a cup as she shuffles over to the counter to sit across from Hux. “Fun night?”

“Poe always lets me drink too much,” Hux groans.

“It’s because you get so slutty.”

“I resent that.”

“But don’t deny it.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “What did you do?”

“Oh, you know… worked late. Came home.” She gives a half-hearted shrug. “Bedded Ben Solo.”

Hux nearly spits out his coffee. “You didn’t.”

“Well unless the naked lug in my bed is someone _else…”_

“How did _that_ happen?”

“Some things may have ah, come to light when I finally proved it wasn’t me texting him.”

“Oh my God.” Hux looks flabbergasted. “I can’t believe it actually worked.”

Rey cocks an eyebrow, setting down her cup. “Excuse me?”

He looks up at her in a daze, clearing his throat as he averts his gaze again. “Nothing.”

“Oh my God, was it _you?”_

“ _No,_ ” Hux says vehemently. “No, it wasn’t me, but—”

Poe shuffles into the kitchen then, stretching his arms over his head as he yawns heavily. “Morning. What are we talking about?”

“About how _Ben_ is currently zonked out naked in Rey’s room,” Hux offers.

“Seriously.” Poe claps his hands together. “About fucking time.”

Rey’s mouth drops open. “It was _you?”_

“Of course it was me,” Poe snorts. “Someone had to get the big doof to stop mooning and fucking do something about it.”

“You are sort of an asshole,” Rey points out.

“Naturally,” he answers. “But I get results.”

“What do you think he’ll do when he finds out?”

“You can’t _tell_ him,” Poe huffs. “He’ll—”

A door clicks shut down the hall, and they all turn to look as the last member of the house joins them, wearing the same pajamas he left on her bedroom floor the night before and scratching at the back of his neck. He stills in the entryway of the kitchen, taking in the way they’re all staring at him with a mild panic that sort of makes Rey’s chest flutter. How did she not notice just how awkward he was before? A lot of things make a lot more sense to her now.

“Ben,” Poe starts slyly. “Whose room did you just come out of?”

Ben’s eyes dart across the room to Rey, widening a bit as he rubs at his arm idly. 

“He was in mine,” Rey says determinedly. “Want to make something of it?”

Poe raises his hands innocently. “No, no, I was just curious. What an interesting way to start the New Year for this house.”

Rey grins as she hops off the barstool, crossing the distance and looping her arms around one very stunned Ben Solo’s neck. “Good morning.”

His smile is slow, almost as if he’s still waiting to wake up, but then his hands settle at her waist as he pulls her a little closer. “Morning.”

“I think you should take me to breakfast.”

His eyebrow raises. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” She nods emphatically. “And you’ll be doing all the talking.”

He laughs softly. “Fair enough.”

“And also Poe is the one who has been texting you.”

Ben’s head jerks up. “The fuck?” Poe hides behind a box of cereal he’s holding, and Rey presses up on her toes to distract him by pressing her mouth to his. He relaxes a bit, arms winding tighter around her. “I’m either going to kill him or thank him,” he murmurs.

“Do it after breakfast,” she laughs. 

“Deal.” His lips curl up at the corners, and for a moment Rey sort of forgets there are other people in the room staring at them gleefully. “Happy New Year.”

Her fingers card through his hair, grin mirroring his. “Yeah,” she says quietly. “Yeah, it is.”

Their friends begin a rousing rendition of Auld Lang Syne behind them, and neither of them really mind. Not with the way she’s thinking about dragging him down the hall for a pit stop before breakfast. And it will be, she thinks. A good year.

She thinks it’s going to be a great one.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kylotrashforever)!  
> I made a [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo), come follow me!  
> 


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